Lost & Insecure
by floralteacups
Summary: "Lost and insecure/You found me, you found me/Lyin' on the floor/Surrounded, surrounded/Why'd you have to wait?/Where were you?/Where were you?/Just a little late/You found me/you found me"


If Blaine had known what was going to happen that night, he never would have gone to the dance in the first place. Of course he couldn't have known what would happen, but still. Had he, he would've stayed home like he normally did, stuck in his room reading or listening to music.

But he didn't know. So that's why Blaine was curled up in a ball against a brick wall, bleeding and bruising, eyes raw and red from crying.

Blaine had been out of the closet for a good three months when he saw the poster advertising his school's Sadie Hawkins dance. He'd been walking down the hallway of his high school with his friend, Gabriel, one of three openly gay boys at the school. They'd become friendly after Blaine was thrown into a dumpster, and Gabriel had helped him clean himself up.

"A Sadie Hawkins dance?" the other boy asked, his blonde hair hanging just above his brown eyes. He shifted his bookbag to his other shoulder, moving out of the way of incoming students.

"Yeah, I guess so," said Blaine, reading the information at the bottom of the paper. He smiled, an idea popping in his mind. "Hey, Gabe," he began, licking his lips with anticipation. "Why don't we go? 'Ya know, as friends. It'd be fun," he turned to face his friend, a wide smile on his face.

"That sounds awesome, actually," Gabriel said, smiling back at him. "It's a date," he said, eyes sparkling, moving on to his first class.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Blaine," Gregory Anderson said, putting his glass of water down beside his dinner plate. He wiped his upper lip with his napkin, then turned to look at his oldest son, not wanting to get too upset.

"Why though?" Blaine asked, his hazel eyes doing more of the questioning than his words were. "We're not going as _dates,_" he said, returning his gaze back to his half-eaten plate. His brother was sitting next to him, staring at his lap, probably playing his PS3 to try to ignore the argument that was about to occur.

"Your father and I know that, sweetie," said his mother, Marie, taking a sip from her wine glass and rubbing her temples. "But the other kids there won't know that. And they could try to pu-"

"Why can't I have fun though?" Blaine cut in, his anger showing through. "Why do I have to be the one who's careful? It's not fair. I'm not doing anything wrong. They're the one-"

"That's enough, Blaine," his father said, voice sharp as a knife. "Go if you want. But don't come crying to us when you get your ass kicked."

He opened his mouth to say something, but shut it instead, the family finishing their dinner in complete and utter silence.

The two boys walked out of the dance smiling and laughing. Blaine ran his fingers through his hairs, walking down the front steps of the school.

"That wasn't as bad as I thought it'd be," Gabriel admitted, sitting down on the steps, leaning against a wall, his leg bent at the knee upwards.

"I had a good time," Blaine agreed, nodding as he sat down next to him. "I'm surprised no one bothered us. I'm happy I came."

There was a silence for a moment, only broken by the soft rustle of fabric. Gabriel turned his head to face Blaine, eyes downcast.

"Hey, Blaine?" he asked, more to the ground than to anything else.

"Yeah, Gabe?" Blaine turned to look at him, eyes focusing on his blonde hair, the streetlight bouncing off of it gently.

"We're friends, right?" His gaze was still focused on the floor, as if he'd lose the courage to say whatever he wanted to if he looked at Blaine.

"Yeah, of course we're friends. Best friends. Why would you ask that?" He cocked an eyebrow, not exactly sure where this was going.

Looking up, bangs dusting his eyelashes gently, he opened his mouth to speak, staying silent for a moment.

"Will we still be friends if I kiss you?"

Now it was Blaine's turn to be silent, his mouth in a perfect O shape. At a loss for words, he simply nodded, and let out a quiet _'Uh-huh'_.

The corners of his lips curving into a smile, Gabriel moved in, his lips pressing softly against the other boys, motionless for a minute, getting used to the feeling of lips on lips.

Blaine's eyes widened as he felt Gabriel's lips move against his, as if he couldn't believe he was actually being kissed, by a guy. And by a good looking guy at that. The other boy's lips were warm, like skin that had been warmed by the sun. He tasted like mint and chocolate, and he felt himself beginning to smile. His hands cupped Gabriel's face gently, pulling them closer.

Gabriel had opened his mouth when they heard a loud voice call out to them.

"HEY FAGGOTS! What the fuck are you doing?"

They broke apart, searching in the dark for the source of the voices. Blaine leaned over Gabriel's shoulder, eyes landing on two upperclassmen, still in tuxedos from the dance. His eyes widened again, fear shouting through his veins. They were the same boys who'd thrown him into the dumpster the day he'd met Gabe.

"Gabe, we should go," whispered Blaine, eyes falling to the stone he sat on. "They're not playing around." He pulled on his friend's sleeve, moving to get up, but they were too late. The older boys were already surrounding them, no escape in sight.

"You're not going anywhere, princess," one of them said, a smirk snaking it's way onto his face. He had wavy dark hair, eyes ice blue, as if they'd frozen over. He gave Blaine a kick, leaning down to hoist him up by the collar, pushing him against the stone wall.

_Smack. _Blaine's face throbbed, punch after punch hitting him hard. One of the boys threw him down to the floor, landing face down.

The breath was knocked out of him, and he was left gasping for air. He tried to call out Gabe's name, but only a _'Gah' _sound made it's way out of his throat. Attempting to crawl out of the way, he was stopped by a swift kick to the ribs, a sharp cracking sound resulting.

"Your boyfriend can't help you now, queer," was the last thing Blaine heard before everything went black.

When people say that everything goes black when they pass out, they really mean everything. It's like you're sleeping, only not dreaming. And when you wake up, you're lost and confused, because you're probably waking up in a white hospital room, so white that it's sterile.

At least that's how Blaine woke up.

As his eyes fluttered open, there was an eerie silence, eye lids heavy with sleep. He moved his hands to rub them, but couldn't, as he felt the tug of an IV in his arm. Looking at the chord, he looked around the room, his mother asleep with Ed, his head laying in her lap, lost to dreaming.

The only awake person other than himself was his father.

"Dad?" he asked, voice weak after not being used for awhile. "Dad, what happened?"

Shifting his position to lean closer to the hospital bed, he rubbed the nape of his neck, looking up to face Blaine. The teenager realized that he must've picked up that habit from his father, never realzing it until now. Sighing, his father began to speak, painting him a picture of what had happened.

Blaine had three broken ribs, a fractured wrist, cuts and bruises all over his body, and a black eye decorated his face. His body was sore, and he could feel his pulse beating gently, but painfully, wherever he was bruised. And really, there wasn't much on his body where he wasn't. He could only nod, and even that hurt him. He needed the answer to one more question though.

"What happened to Gabe?" The room became quiet, as if all the air had been sucked out of it.

"He's fine," his father said, after a pregnant pause. "His parents are transferring him though. As of now."

Blaine was silent for a moment, eyes locked on the clean white sheets of the hospital bed. "What?" was all he managed out.

"Your friend's gone, Blaine. You're not going to see him again. He's going to some boarding school in New Hampshire."

Squeezing his eyes shut tight, Blaine fell back onto his limp pillow, not saying another word, because really, there was nothing he could say. No matter how hard he screamed, how hard he cried, it wouldn't change a thing. Gabe was gone. And he wasn't coming back.

"I told you not to go to that dance," his father said, standing up to leave the room. His footsteps echoed as he walked away, destroying whatever attempt he'd ever have at a relationship with his son.

Maybe it was then that Blaine had decided to never let that happen again. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't. He wasn't sure, and he'd probably never know for sure.

The only thing he was sure of, was that he lost two things that night: one, his sense of security, two, his best friend. And those were two terrible things to lose.

As a nurse came into to give him pain medication, he was lulled to sleep by the hum and beeping of machines, and he swore that he could feel Gabe's warm sun kissed lips again, pressed lightly against his, as if he were saying goodbye.


End file.
